Callum of Drakkar Coven (Part 1)
How much humanity would you sacrifice in order to survive?
The scent of lavender and chamomile drifted delicately on the breeze, a warm wind dancing amongst the fragrant wildflowers and herbs at the base of the hill, halfway between Seraphim Creek and the village of Drumceda. It was early spring, the grass was green, and the first of the lambing had begun.
Laramie, the son of Kazurum, was taking advantage of the fact that most of the older men had put down their furrowing tools to attend to the sheep, and he had snuck off to the wildflower field to meet up with his betrothed, Sarah.
In preparation, Laramie had brought with him a small woolen blanket, handmade by his mother many years before, to spread out on the ground so Sarah would not sully her white, lace petticoat as they lay gazing up at the drifting patterns of clouds in the bright blue sky.
He reached for Sarah’s hand and interlaced his fingers with hers, holding them together to shield their eyes from the unseasonably intense rays of the setting sun. The village healer predicted a hot summer with very little rain, and it seemed to have started early. This information was of little concern to Laramie at that moment. His only thoughts were of Sarah, their pending nuptials, and what secrets lay beneath the many layers of her clothing.
Turning onto his side, Laramie gazed lovingly upon Sarah’s face, wondering if she was having any of the same thoughts.
“Do you ever have thoughts of our wedding night?” he asked.
Sarah’s face flushed, bright as the laurel berries come winter.
“My word, Laramie,” she whispered. “What if someone were to overhear you asking me such a thing?”
“I do not believe anyone would find it unusual,” Laramie replied, then rolled onto his back, reaching for a long stem of grass to peel away the outer sheath so that he could chew on the tender center. “I am certain I am not the first young man to wonder what awaits him when he takes a wife to his bed.”
Laramie turned to face Sarah again. “Has the healer spoken to you as of yet? My father says it is the healer’s responsibility to ensure you are familiar with your duties as my wife.”
“Yes, Laramie, she has come to me.” Sarah held up her hand and briefly placed her pointer finger on Laramie’s lips to keep him from inquiring further. “You will have to trust that she has provided me with the information I require to keep you happy and fulfilled.”
Laramie fell back and blew air out noisily past his lips in frustration. Their wedding was less than two weeks away, but the waiting was making him a little crazy. Against the healer’s advice regarding ensuring he provides Sarah with a child on their wedding night, he had been releasing his seed into the soil regularly in an attempt to keep his sanity.
He turned back to face Sarah and raised himself up on one elbow so he could look down upon her. Lying here beside her, with no chaperone in sight, was challenging every bit of restraint he had.
“May I ask permission to kiss you at least?” he inquired.
“You may.” Sarah grinned. “But the answer would be no.”
Laramie groaned in exasperation and leaped to his feet.
“We should be heading back,” he said. “It’s getting late, and I would not want to be responsible for having you out in the fields once Lord Callum releases his riders. Your father would not be pleased with me, …and neither would my own.”
Sarah peered up at the craggy mountain that towered above the picturesque valley, its peaks jutting up into a thin layer of wispy cloud. It would be nightfall soon, and the foreboding inhabitants of the ancient castle clinging to its side would awaken, leaving no one outside the village walls safe.
“What do you believe is the fate of those taken?” Sarah asked as she lifted the blanket from the ground and began folding it neatly. “Do you believe the legends to be true? That Lord Callum and his brothers, Drachen and Oleander, are vampires?”
Laramie furrowed his brow in thought.
“Whether they are, or not,” he replied. “Anyone who is taken never comes back.”
He looked up toward the castle. The first of the torches set into its thick stone walls was being lit. He took the blanket from Sarah and reached for her hand. “We should go. The guards will be tolling the evening bells soon.” He brought Sarah’s hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly, then guided her back toward the village.
Callum startled, awoken by the clamber of the incessantly vexing bell that rang out each evening from the village of Drumceda below, signifying it was time for him to rouse.
He rose sedately, allowing the slowed circulation in his body time to adjust, then reached for the pewter goblet his assistant Finster would’ve set on his bedside table only moments before. He grunted contentedly, knowing this was the final rationed portion, and swallowed the warm fluid, letting it trickle its way seductively down the back of his throat.
His period of mourning was over.
Callum finished his goblet and called to Finster.
“Yes, Your Lordship.” Finster bowed deeply.
“I need you to deliver a message to my brother Oleander before he heads out this evening.” Callum strode away from his bed and stopped to check his appearance in the full-length mirror facing his wardrobe. He was pleased by what he saw. Even at the age of four hundred fifty-six, he didn’t look a day over thirty.
He snorted aggressively at his reflection, satisfied with his menacing stature, and turned his attention back to Finster. “The human population of Drumceda has been flourishing to the point of overcrowding.”
“Yes, Your Lordship. There has been talk amongst the villagers of extending the wall to accommodate more families.”
Callum grunted arrogantly. “The projected crop yield will be insufficient to support that number of humans through the winter.” A low rumble rose from his chest, and he shuddered with anticipation. “I am free from my restrictions, and I absolutely detest the taste of human malnutrition. Tell Oleander to breach the walls of Drumceda tonight.”
Finster nodded vigorously. “Yes, Your Lordship.”
Callum pulled back the heavy curtains and gazed out, enjoying the view of the moon as it shimmered across the surface of the creek below. His wife had always delighted in the view from that window.
“Just to be sure,” Callum added. “Ask Oleander to focus on the breeders.” He spun around as he heard Finster shuffling his way out of the room. “And Finster, since our stocks are about to be replenished, would you kindly fetch me the female I’ve been patiently sipping on. I am famished beyond measure and find myself feeling somewhat celebratory.” He groaned in anticipation. “I think a period of glutinous feasting is in order.”
Laramie stared into the hearth fire, enjoying its comforting, familiar warmth, and became mesmerized by its ever-changing form. He focused on a single section, attempting to anticipate the height and color of each flame as it licked at the surface of the charred firewood. He smiled as his mind wandered back to Sarah.
The first time he’d set eyes on his beloved Sarah had been during a village festival when he was but ten years old. He remembered how he had winked at her and how she had blushed furiously at his flirtatious advance. For the remainder of the day, he had kept her within his sight and had even ventured to present her with a small bouquet of picked flowers. After that first meeting, he had begun courting her in earnest, much to the amusement of her parents due to his age, but as time passed, it became evident to all that his heart truly belonged to Sarah. And last year, Sarah’s father had given his blessing and permission to ask for her hand.
Laramie sighed with contentment and was helpless to keep a happy grin from spreading across his face.
“There you are grinning again,” teased his father, Kazurum, as he pounded Laramie affectionately on the back. “You keep smiling like that, and your face is going to stay that way, and you won’t be able to kiss that bride of yours.”
“I am certain I would find a way to manage.” Laramie stood and spun around happily, reveling in the dizzying euphoria. “Kissing with your mouth closed is for old people anyway.”
“Never mind about us old people, and count yourself lucky to have survived until your eighteenth birthday. In my day, there were very few people your age to be found. Oleander and his party of hunters used to ride straight into the village and steal us from our beds.”
“Why do you think they stopped the raids?” Laramie asked.
“It’s difficult to say. Lord Callum lost his wife, Amelia, and their young daughter, Maria, about twelve years ago. If the rumors are true, then I would hazard that the reduction in the size of his household precipitated the decreased demand.”
Laramie slumped down onto the heavy wooden bench that ran the length of the dining table he and his father had built from a felled tree they’d discovered in the forest the previous summer. He always paid heed to his father’s fanciful stories about the inhabitants of the castle, but it was difficult to comprehend the reality that they lived on land, and were governed by a Lord who was potentially a bloodthirsty murderer, a vampire.
Kazurum grunted, reminiscing in his mind. “Did I ever tell you about the time my great-grandfather saw Lord Callum?”
Laramie smiled. “Only a thousand times over. Once more won’t hurt, I suppose.” He slid in closer to his father and leaned his head against the familiar shoulder, settling in.
“Lord Callum is a tall man,” Kazurum began. “Much taller than his brother Oleander, whom we have both seen riding along the outskirts of the walls with his hunting party. It is said that Lord Callum is somewhat kinder than his brother Drachen, who is rumored to hunt on his own, draining his prey before they’ve even had a chance to scream. Legend tells us that Lord Callum is the eldest of the brothers and that his stunning beauty and ability to wield immense power and effective governance over his lands make him the favorite of their father, Drakkar.”
“Drakkar is supposedly the head of the coven, isn’t he?”
“That is correct …but no one has ever seen him.”
“Do you honestly believe they’re hundreds of years old?”
“Those three brothers, Callum, Drachen, and Oleander, have permeated our legends and songs for countless generations. I have no doubt in my mind that those three men are not men at all, but some type of immortal beings.”
“But do you think they’re vampires?”
“No one knows for sure, but it is difficult to imagine why else they would take people away to the castle, never to be returned.”
Laramie lowered his gaze in thought, wondering about the likelihood that such creatures existed. What little he had seen of Oleander and his party of riders flying through the fields on their massive black horses had reinforced his fear of the night and what the setting sun brought with it. He could only imagine what his mother would’ve said, had she been alive, about his father taking him up onto the wall to watch the riders.
He raised his head when a deafening, thunderous rumble roared around them, echoing through the cobbled streets outside his home.
“What is that?” Laramie looked around frantically, trying to determine the source of the noise; it sounded like an army of horses ripping through the streets.
Kazurum leaped to his feet, spinning around, searching for something. Spotting a small metal tool, he lifted it from the fireplace mantle and shoved the dining table aside.
“Father, what is it?” Laramie asked again, his voice full of fear. He had never seen his father behaving this way before.
“It’s Oleander—they’ve breached the wall,” Kazurum replied as he flipped up the rug that had lain beneath the table, uncovering a hatch entrance on the floor. He jammed the tool into it, lifting it free from the wood plank flooring.
“Get in!” Kazurum shouted at Laramie. “And whatever you do, whatever you hear …stay absolutely silent …and do not emerge until you see the glow of daybreak.” He began lowering the hatch but caught Laramie’s eye before he settled it in place. “And always remember, I love you, son.”
The hatch lowered shut, and as the rug and table were replaced, Laramie’s entire world was plunged into darkness.
The story continues …
